


And So the Snake Fell in Love With the Lion

by LadyKate95



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Dumbledore Bashing, F/M, Gen, Harry is Lord Potter, M/M, Manipulative Dumbledore, Post-Order of the Phoenix AU, Powerful Harry, Ron Weasley Bashing, Sassy Harry, Severitus, Snarky Severus Snape, Veela Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:45:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKate95/pseuds/LadyKate95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry receives a letter from Gringotts on his 16th birthday, he has no how much his life would change. Between learning about his heritage, dealing with his new guardian, sorting his changing magic out, finding new friends and trying to work out what the hell is going on with one Draco Malfoy, Harry really doesn’t have time for You-Know-Who this year. But, as Harry soon finds out, war makes friends out of enemies and enemies out of friends.</p><p>Terrible summary, but please read anyway :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At the Start

**Author's Note:**

> Hey All :)
> 
> This is my first fic, so please let me know what you think. I think this is where I do the ‘*DISCLAIMER* I don’t own any of this and I bow down to the eternal queen JKR’ thing so plz don’t sue me. Any and all constructive criticism is welcome and let me know if you like it.
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> Kate

Harry sat, once again, in Dudley’s second bedroom, upstairs in the extraordinarily ordinary house located at number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The road outside Harry’s barred window shimmered in the heat and the oppressive warmth blanketed the area in a feeling of sluggishness.

Harry, however, felt none of the warmth that threated to melt shoes to sidewalk. Instead, his thoughts turned to the past years and how miserably he had failed everyone around him.

Cedric dead. Sirius dead. My parents’ dead. Cedric dead. Sirius dead. My parents’ dead. Cedric. Sirius. Mum. Dad. It’s all my fault. The thoughts chased their way around Harry’s head in a never-ending stream of his own incompetence.

Suddenly, he was wrenched from his thoughts by the steady thump of Uncle Vernon’s heavy footsteps up the stairs. This summer had been bad, much worse then normal. The Dursley’s seemed to take offence to Mad-Eye Moody’s comments about treating Harry better and instead were more determined then ever to stop his freakishness though any means possible. The sound of the various locks and dead bolts being opened woke Hedwig, who looked balefully over at Harry, cranky at having been woken so soon after getting back from the short hunting trip she had been allowed the night before.

“As long as I do my chores and don’t talk back and take my punishments silently, Hedwig will be okay" Harry whispered to himself, a mantra that he had started repeating to himself.

“Boy!” Uncle Vernon blustered as he came though the door, filling it completely with his massive girth. The short trip up the stairs, in conjunction with the heat had made his face redder then normal, darkening it to a rosy tomato shade. His moustache and forehead already dripped with sweat. “Why are you still lazing around when there are chores to be done!”

Harry held his tongue, longing to snap back that there was no possible way for him to get out of the room, even if he’d wanted too. The Dursley’s had learnt their lesson and had made sure to lock his wand up with his trunk in the cupboard under the stairs, rather then just assuming that he’d put it in the trunk with all of the rest of the things that connected him to the wizarding world.

“Go and get breakfast made, then clean and tidy the kitchen. After that the lawn needs mowing and the gardens need weeding, and I think it’s about time the garden shed was cleaned out and white washed again.” Uncle Vernon grumbled as Harry hastily stood and made his way over to the door. “And you’ll get it all done before dinner, or there’ll be no food for you today! I’m done supporting you with nothing in return, stealing the food out of Dudley’s mouth”

“Yes Uncle Vernon” Harry quickly replied, knowing what his Uncle expected from him.

Uncle Vernon stepped back to allow Harry to pass, but as Harry sidled past, aware as always that the heat shortened his uncles already short temper, Uncle Vernon gave him a solid cuff across the back of Harry’s head, hitting the lump left by Aunt Petunia’s flying skillet from the day before and making Harry see stars.

The headache that had been Harry’s near constant companion that summer blazed and he staggered, bumping into Dudley, who had just left the bathroom.

“Dad! The freak ran into me! I think he’s bruised my arm.” Dudley spat gleefully, despite the fact that Harry wasn’t heavy enough to do any real damage.

“How dare you lay a hand on our Dudders you little monster!” Uncle Vernon raged, moving his considerable bulk over to where Harry had slid down the wall into a protective huddle. Vernon kicked out at Harry’s form, catching the boy swiftly in the ribs, before dragging him up by the back of the neck and shaking him until Harry though his teeth would rattle out. His glasses, already oft repaired, had flown off in the scuffle, and were quickly stepped on by Dudley, who smiled at the snap they made under his foot.

Harry, who’d let out a gasp when Vernon’s foot connected with his lingering bruises from Dudley and Co.’s most recent game of ‘Harry Hunting’ tried not to cry when his uncle finally released him, but it was hard when he heard his uncles next words as he bent to pick up his glasses from the floor.

“I think another night without food will do you some good you ungrateful mutt. Maybe a little but of hunger will temper your attitude and God help you if all of your chores aren’t done by the time I get home. Now go and help your poor Aunt with breakfast.”

At that Uncle Vernon gave Harry shove between the shoulder blades, pushing him down the stairs.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After cooking the bacon and eggs, and getting the toast ready, and setting out the fruit salad and serving the tea and coffee and juice, Harry stood in his normal corner and watched his relatives eat. His stomach, already audibly growling, as it had been two days without food already for failing to complete his chores, which he had in fact completed, and having had little more then some soup and a few scraps of bread in the days before let off a particularly loud rumble. Loud enough, apparently, for Dudley to hear, which prompted him to grin evilly at Harry and drop a slice of his bacon to the floor.

“Clean that mess up.” said his Aunt Petunia; not even looking at Harry, who never the less knew it was him who was being spoken to. “Straight into the bin boy.”

Harry walked over to the table, knelt, picked up the bacon and wiped at the spot with a piece of paper towel, the aroma of fresh cooked bacon making him salivate before walking over and resentfully dropping it into the bin with the other scraps.

Harry went back to his corner, once again thinking that at least his relative’s heavy chore schedule kept him too busy to wallow in the depression that threatened to overwhelm him if he spent too long thinking about it.

Once the Dursley family had finished eating, with Dudley eating everything that was left on the table that Harry normally might have been able to scavenge for at least some edible food, Harry began the long and laborious job of cleaning the kitchen to his Aunts exacting standards. Having done the dishes, he wiped over the benches and cupboards and then started to scrub the floor on his hands and knees. His bruised ribs and shoulders protested, but Harry didn’t really have a choice, not if he wanted Hedwig alive and fed.

Harry thought about the intense fear he’d felt when Uncle Vernon had told him on the way home from King’s Cross to ‘keep that ruddy bird silent’ or Hedwig would be locked in the cupboard with the rest of his school things for the summer. As long as he did everything right and stayed silent and didn’t make anything ‘freaky’ happen, Hedwig was let out to hunt and could deliver post to and from Harry, as long as it was at night, lest the neighbours see anything. He couldn’t bear the though of losing the only friend that had stayed with him though everything.

Finally finished with his scrubbing, Harry quickly darted upstairs to use the bathroom and grab some tape to fix his glasses before going out into the stifling heat. Only 10 am, Harry knew that his day would be long and hot, but at least if he was outside he could drink as much water as he wanted, which went a long way to filling his aching belly.

Falling into the repetitive work of weeding Aunt Petunia’s vast garden beds, Harry had time to contemplate his up-coming birthday the next day. He’d written to Ron and Hermione just the week before, but hadn’t heard back from either the whole break, apart from a few quick sentences here or there, something that hit too close to home after the year before, when his so-called best friends hadn’t written to him all summer at the headmasters behest.

Harry didn’t know how to talk to his friends about the pain of loosing the last person alive that had loved him for him, and putting aside the fact that the blame for Sirius’s death lay totally on his shoulders, the death of his godfather also represented the loss of the last chance Harry had of leaving Privet Drive forever, so for the most part he stayed silent, ignoring Hermione’s one demand that he talk about it, but within days of the Minestry ordeal the other two thirds of the Golden Trio didn’t even bring it up. Neither of them had lost anyone close to them, and they definitely didn’t understand the guilt that threatened to crush him so Harry really wouldn’t have know what to say, even if they had cared to ask.

Harry told them that the muggle’s were as bad as always, but even then he knew that if he got a response it would be the same as always, that he just had to get though it and maybe he could eventually be allowed to go to the Burrow for the last few weeks of the holidays.

Harry hadn’t mentioned his birthday in his last letter, knowing that it would once again go unmarked by the Dursley’s, and preferring to celebrate when he eventually saw his friends again. He hoped to hear from them soon, even if it was just to confirm that someone, anyone, still cared about him.

Just as the sun was reaching its peak, Harry stopped to have another drink, and to rest quietly in the shade of house underneath the window, where Aunt Petunia was unlikely to spot him and yell at him for being lazy and ungrateful. He was already beginning to feel a little sunburnt and the heat itself was making him light headed. As such, he didn’t even start when a small green snake slithered out onto the grass near where he was laying.

 _“Hello there”_ Harry hissed quietly as the small serpent.

 _“A Sssspeaker! I’ve never met one before!”_ the snake, no longer then Harry’s arm, hissed back.

 _“My name’s Harry, what may I call you?”_ Harry rolled onto his stomach, ignoring his twinging body, so that he could make eye contact with the snake.

“ _Greetingss Sspeaker Harry. I am known as Tiamat to my nest-matess. It’s nice to find a human who knows how to bask in the sun, rather then hide in the stone-cave-nest.”_ The small snake slipped closer, tasting the air with her tongue.

“ _A house.”_ Harry smiled “ _The stone-cave-nest is called a house.”_

As Harry talked to the snake and answered her questions about living with humans, Harry felt the first smallest fission of happiness go though him since returning to the Hell that is number four Privet Drive.

 ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry only came back to the present when he heard the tell tale sound of his uncle’s car pulling into the driveway. Harry, having become so engrossed in his conversation with Tiamat that he had lost track of time, looked around the garden and saw that while the lawn had been tended to and the weeds all pulled, he hadn’t even started on the shed.

Harry cringed, knowing that there was no way for this situation to end well, and between his empty stomach and bruised and battered body he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He though about running, of taking the gardening tools and breaking open the lock on the cupboard, grabbing his trunk and catching the Knight Bus to somewhere, anywhere that was better then the Dursley’s. He knew, however, that even if he did manage to get past his relatives and somehow get to his wand back and hightail it to London, chances where that Dumbledore would send him straight back. That was a bitter pill to swallow, to know that he had no other family to take him in, and that even visiting the Burrow for too long would put the Weasley’s in danger.

Saying a quick good bye to the small serpent, Harry crept over to the shed and opened it, hoping against home that if it looked like he was at least trying to finish his chores his uncle wouldn’t punish him too badly. Looking at the inside of the shed, which held a jumble of old gardening supplies and outdoor toys that Dudley had broken or outgrown but refused to throw out, Harry felt a small ember of anger flame up when he realised that even tidying the shed would take at least a day, let alone white washing it with paint he didn’t even have. He was tired of being constantly set up to fail, here and at Hogwarts and even the whole wizarding world wanted him, an untrained, soon to be 16 year old boy to save them all from the strongest Dark wizard in a century.

“BOY!” His uncle thundered, making his way over to the shed as Harry scrambled back out to the open air of the yard. He could only hope that his uncles’ fear of people overhearing would keep him safe from his immediate rage, although the neighbours had been markedly unobservant about anything concerning the small child with the big green eyes that lived at number 4.

He was grabbed by big hands just as he made it though the door and out of the cramped space that reminded him far too much of his quarters for the first ten years of his life. Grasped tight enough to make Harry whimper, he was thrown to the ground, jostling his undernourished body.

“Silence, you ungrateful mutt!” Uncle Vernon hissed menacingly, “Now, I can see that you’ve clearly been slacking off today. Just like you’re lazy layabout father, this is the thanks we get for housing you and feeding you and putting up with you’re nonsenses.”

“But Uncle Vern-” Harry began, looking up at his uncle, hoping to explain just how big a job he’d be assigned, only to receive a vicious backhand across the face. The hit dug his glasses into his face and left cuts around his eyes, as well as knocking his head back into the outside of the shed as he fell, causing Harry’s vision to go momentarily dark as pain shot across his nerves. The handprint reddened, and Harry knew he would be adding to his already vast collection of bruises.

“Did I say you could speak?” Uncle Vernon demanded, clearly expecting no answer, almost oblivious to the pain his nephew was in. “Now get inside, it’ll be the belt for you!”

Harry staggered to his feet; know that the long it took for him to get upstairs the worse his punishment would be. Inside, he slipped quickly past Dudley in the living room and Aunt Petunia, who was just finishing up another dinner in the spotless kitchen that Harry wouldn’t be permitted to eat.

Entering his bedroom, Harry bent quickly over his desk, unable to stop the tremors the wracked his body despite the lingering heat of the day. His backside still felt bruised from the last belting he’d received two weeks before for spilling the juice he had been bring to the table all over his uncle as he had been rushing to finish his food before a big presentation. Harry was glad, for possibly the first time, of having nothing to wear but Dudley’s cast-off, as the too large jeans and t-shirt that he was wearing would allow him some padding from his uncles blows, even if there wasn’t enough fat on his body to do so.

“Now, I think ten for not completing your chores, another ten for wilful disobedience and five each for back chat and wasting my time seems fair”

The last thought that crossed Harrys mind before the belt descended was that he should be used to arbitrary punishment after dealing with Snape for five years.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry lay, face down, aching from head to foot from the day abuses, on his bed, eyes fixed on the old alarm clock of Dudley’s he had managed to repair from where his temperamental cousin had thrown it across the room. Having retreated into himself, Harry watched disinterestedly as the clock counted down.

11:56

It was quiet in the house, with only the distant snore from Dudley and Uncle Vernon, and the occasional creak of the house settling. 

11:57

Hedwig cooed softly from her cage, trying to comfort her master, even if she couldn’t get to him.

11:58

Outside his window, opened as wide as possible to try and catch the breeze despite the bars, the soft sound of trees and bushes rustling played in symphony with the cicadas and the distant traffic, still busy despite the late hour.

11:59

Harry though back to his eleventh birthday, about how simple it had all been, the sheer joy he felt when he found out about his heritage. There was no friendly half-giant coming to rescue him this time, no mater how hard he wished.

12:00

Happy Birthday to me the boy though to himself, wondering if he would make it through to see the next.

An owl flew through his open window and made its way sedately over to where Harry lay prone. Dropping its burden next to the boy’s head, the motley owl hooted softly at Hedwig, and then was back out the window and into the freedom of the night sky.

Expecting a letter from one of his erstwhile Harry flipped the letter open, only to pause at the gold wax sealed with the Gringotts emblem. Unsealing the letter Harry quickly scanned the letter, eyes adjusted to the low light of the lamppost outside. Reading, Harry was a little puzzled, but with his annual ritual complete and the events of the day catching up with him, as there was nothing that required his immediate attention he put the piece of parchment on his bedside table, removed his glasses and promptly fell into the deep sleep of one trying to escape reality.

Little did he know what that innocuous piece of parchment would put in motion, and how it would change the path he walked forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Harry gets back to the magical world and more characters are introduced :)


	2. The Will of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets to Gringotts and gains some knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a long chapter, and it set up the majority of the story. Let me know if anything is particularly unclear, but a lot of what's been covered will be better explained in the next chapter.
> 
> I guess I should warn that there is a single drop of blood mentioned, so skip that line if it freaks you out? 
> 
> Also, I'm the president of my college's student club and I'm snowed under organising Orientation Week for 200+ new students, which is happening in 10 days, so updates might be slow over the next little while. Sorry!
> 
> I've also realised what a monster of a fic this is going to be, but since I'm covering a bunch of different tropes it really can't be helped. Oh well *shrugs*
> 
> Thanks to everyone that left comments/kudos/bookmarks, it means a lot.
> 
> *Harry still isn't mine*

Harry woke with the dawn; just as he’d been long trained by his relatives to do. Even when he lived in the small space in the cupboard under the stairs, to not be awake and ready when Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon eventually came to let him out courted punishment.

 The light streaming in through his open window lit blurry dust motes swirling in the early morning breeze and for a moment Harry almost felt at peace. As he reached for his glasses, however, that quiet peace was shattered as the various bruises and aches that littered his body sprang back to the forefront of him mind. Harry let out a low groan as he was forced to stretch in order to grab his glasses and in his sleep heavy clumsiness, knocked the letter sent to him by Gringotts to the floor. Glassed retrieved, Harry showed some of the agility that had made him the youngest seeker in a century and manoeuvred off the bed in a way that avoided jostling his various wounds.

 Harry carefully bent and retrieved his letter, noting with a level of sad disinterest as he did that there didn’t seem to be any other mail for him. Re-reading the letter now that he was actually coherent, Harry felt his brows rise in the odd mix of confusion, surprise and apprehension that seemed to happen to him far more often then he’d like.

**_Heir Potter,_ **

**_Salutation on your 16 th birthday._ **

**_As you no doubt know, you have now come fully into your inheritance and we require you to make your way to Gringotts at your earliest convenience to sign paperwork formalising this._ **

**_As you are currently below the age of magical majority and have yet to file papers with the Ministry, this paper will act as a portkey and bring you to the bank should you be unable to make alternative travel arrangements. Simply repeat the phrase “Fortius Quo Fidelius” to activate. An appointment has been made for 8:00 am today, if this is an inconvenient time please owl back with a more appropriate time and date._ **

**_May your vaults be full of gold and your enemies struck with fear._ **

**_Master Griphook, Senior Accounts Manager_ **

****

The only parts of the letter that Harry fully understood was the acknowledgment of his birthday, the time of his appointment and that Gringotts had gotten his surname correct. The rest, while in plain English, was infinitely confusing for Harry.

Harry looked at his clock, reading just past 5 am in the glowing red dash. Harry lay back down on his bed, carefully sliding onto his front to protect his whip weals from direct contact. Since Hedwig was locked away, and there was no chance that Harry would wake his aunt or uncle up to get the key, there was no way for Harry to get a message to Gringotts, so Harry settled in to wait out the next couple of hours, hoping against hope that he could get to Gringotts, sign whatever paperwork he had to sign as quickly as possible, and get back to his bedroom in Privet drive before the Dursley’s woke up.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

At seven thirty exactly, Harry carefully stood and made his way over to his wardrobe, exchanging the set of oversized pyjamas for a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, both too large, but clean and well mended. Harry thought it would be best to wear his ‘best’ clothes to the bank, and since he couldn’t get his robes from his trunk this was really going to have to do. Sliding his feet into ratty sneakers, Harry bent to tie the laces as tight as he could, but in doing so managed to overstretch over sore muscles and he flinched violently, knocking Hedwig’s cage. It clattered loudly to the floor and Hedwig, violently tossed around, screeched in protest.

Harry froze, and wished to any deity listening that his relatives would sleep through the racket. It didn’t seem anyone was listening though, as his uncle came awake with a loud exclamation.

  
“THAT RUDDY BIRD!” Uncle Vernon roared. Harry heard him heave himself up and start down the hallway, his footsteps thumping loudly.

Harry’s stomach clenched and with his heart beating in his ears, looked wildly round for an escape route. Frantically searching his room, Harry’s eyes stopped on the letter from Gringotts.

Teeth clenched, Harry swooped down and grabbed Hedwig’s cage and hoped that traveling by portkey wouldn’t cause the snowy owl any harm. Holding tight to his owl, Harry reached for the piece of paper and whispered the activation code, just as Uncle Vernon finished unlocking the various locks and dead bolts. The last thing Harry saw as he spun away was his uncle's puce face frozen in horror in the open doorway.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry landed heavily, slamming to the ground with Hedwig in her cage ending up on top of him. He had landed in the middle of the Gringotts entrance hall and all around him witches, wizards and goblin stoped and stared at him. Harry stood and had to stifle a gasp, as the rough landing hadn’t done his bruised and battered body any favours. Smoothing his unruly black hair down and over his scar as a nervous habit, Harry walked quickly towards the front desk, ignoring the quiet (and not so quiet) whispers that began to spread like a ripple as people realised who he was.

Just the year before Harry had been branded by both the public and the Ministry as a liar and a lunatic, but with the events in the Ministry that night the public once again seemed to like him, even if it was as the mythic saviour of the wizarding world, rather then just as himself, Harry thought bitterly to himself.

Stepping up to the front desk Harry waited quietly in line as the few people in front of him were served. As he waited, Harry checked on Hedwig, ignoring her angry gaze in favour or visually checking her for damage. Hopefully Harry would be able to find someone willing to _Alohamora_ the lock off for him so that he could send her to Hogwarts for the rest of the summer. Finally, the goblin at the desk called for the next person and Harry stepped quickly forward.

“Good Morning Sir, I think I have an appointment with a Master Griphook? I know I’m a little early but it was set for eight am? Is he available now or should I come back?” Harry babbled nervously. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he was at the wizarding bank, and was torn between trying to get this done as fast as possible to try and appease his no doubt incensed relatives, or to drag it out in the hope that it would give his uncle time to cool off.

“Ah yes. Young Mr Potter. Please follow Rustsnipe here through to the offices. Griphook is waiting for you.” The goblin at the desk peered down at him from his raised chair.

Another short statured goblin had appeared at Harrys elbow, and once he had Harry’s attention proceeded to lead him through a maze of hallways until they reached a door emblazoned with the gold lettering telling him that he had reached the offices of ‘Griphook, Senior Accounts Manager’. Rustsnipe turned and left silently, leaving Harry to knock quietly and wait for Griphook to call for him to enter.

Walking into a well-appointed office, Harry started when he realised that he recognised the goblin that had stood to meet him.

“Hey, I know you! You’re the goblin that took me to my vault the first time I came to Gringotts with Hagrid. Oh, um, it’s nice to see you again.” Harry ended, remembering his manners.

“Well met Mr Potter. I’ve been the account manager for the Potter estate since before you were born and it was my duty and honour to show the last scion of the Ancient House of Potter to his trust vault.” Griphook nodded once, then gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

“If its not to much trouble Master Griphook, I’d rather stand” Harry responded, thinking about his still aching backside. He did however place Hedwig’s cage on the floor near the door, the goblin side eyeing it in some confusion. “The letter you sent me mentioned an inheritance? I’ve never heard of an inheritance.”

“Ah. I suspected this might have been an issue when you didn’t make contact with me once you started schooling to review your accounts. Your Regent has been receiving quarterly updates since your parents died, but I still can’t technically tell you about the vaults, properties and investments that belong to you.” The goblin paused, a scowl coming over his face.

“By order of the Wizengamot and the Chief Warlock, the Wills of both your parents and Lord Black were permanently sealed and I am bound by a vow of confidentiality not to reveal what they contain. There is, however, a very old and seldom used loophole.” At this, the goblin grinned savagely, clearly happy to pull one over the wizards. “Much like the self-updating book of students at Hogwarts, Gringotts keep a book that updates every time a heir is born, and consequently comes into their inheritance regardless of if the will of the predecessor has been read or not. It’s very old goblin magic and no wizard can circumvent it, not even the Chief Warlock. Now, only the Wizengamot can unseal a document they have sealed and that action must be passed by a two-thirds majority, something that almost never happens. Unless, that is, the Head of the House the individuals in question belong to requests the Wills directly from Gringotts. ”

Harry just stood there looking blankly at the short figure sitting behind the large mahogany desk stacked with papers. This was almost as bad as his History of Magic classes and Harry thought to himself that it was times like this that he really missed Hermione.

The goblin looked at Harry of his glasses expectantly, and seeing no understanding on his blank face continued.

“At midnight last night, The Book of Heirs updated itself to show that a Harry James Potter had become Lord Potter and Lord Black. Clearly, both your father and godfather named your as Heir in their wills, something no-doubt outlined in their wills.”

At this, Harry leaned heavily on the chair next to him. Lord Potter and Lord Black? He had know that his parents were wealthy based on his vault and that Sirius had come from old pureblood money, but Lords? Why had no one mentioned this to him before? Surely that should have come up, even in passing?

“In the event that we were to perform a simple identification spell using a drop of your blood to confirm your identity” Griphook continued, “that would count, in a magical sense, as accepting your lordships and enter you into a legally binding magical contract to ensure you fulfil your duties.”

Harry gaped at this, totally stumped. Smirking now, the goblin kept talking.

“And, as the head of both the Potter and Black Family's, you can…”

“I can ask for my parent’s and Sirius’s wills to be read. They might have left me some clues about this whole Lord thing, or even just a letter telling me how much they love me. That’s common enough, even with the muggles.” Having finally processed what Griphook was saying, in his exclamation of understanding Harry hadn’t even realised he had cut the goblin off. Griphook sat back in his chair and listened to the supposed saviour of the wizarding world babble his thoughts out loud for a few moments, before once again calling for Harry’s attention.

“Mr Potter, do you wish to proceed with the blood identification? If not, your Regent has given me authorisation to give you a full accounting of your trust vault. I should also warn you that in the event that the spell does prove you to be Lord Potter and Lord Black, you would automatically become emancipated, though you may choose to stay with your guardians if you so choose.”

“Yes. Yes please, let's do the blood identification spell” Harry exclaimed, for the moment ignoring the desire for information about what a regent was, what exactly a trust vault was and the whole emancipation thing. All he wanted was to read his parents words and look for some sign that they loved him in the words.

“Good good. Just follow me then and feel free to leave the owl here, no one may enter without my permission.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Having followed Griphook though another set of corridors and hallways, eventually coming to a room that was almost empty, their footsteps echoing off stone walls and cold floors. The only furnishings were a large workbench like those in the potions classroom at Hogwarts, on which sat a long sheet of what appeared to be plain parchment and a silver knife, and a giant book resting on a stand in the exact centre of the room.

“The Book of Heirs” Griphook explained, ushering Harry inside, nodding to the stand “holds the name of every Heir and Lord from all noble families going back to the way to the time of Merlin. A number of the old families have died out, as the male line has ended and no other heir has stepped forward as a claimant. The identification ritual hasn’t been done in more then a century, so this should be an interesting experience.”

Guiding Harry over to the table, Griphook took Harry’s hand and made a small cut on his index finger, allowing the single drop of blood to hit the parchment below. The cut closed with a wave of the goblins hand and the small goblin began chanting in Gobbledegook. The drop of blood absorbed into the parchment and then great scrolling text began to write itself out of the every unravelling parchment.

 

**_Harry James Potter_ **

**_Son of James Fleamont Potter and Lily Marie Potter née Evans_ **

**_Born: 31 st of July in the year 1980_ **

**_Godric's Hollow, West Country, England, Great Britain_ **

****

**_Lord of the Ancient House of Potter_ **

**_Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black_ **

**_Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Gryffindor_ **

**_Heir Of the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell_ **

****

**_Magical Gifts: Parseltongue, Metamorph, Elemental Magic, Mothers Protection, Healing, Runes_ **

****

**_Magical Bonds: Power (6 months), Metamorph (15 months), Elemental (15 months), Power (15 months), Mate Potential (15 months), Healing (11 years),_ **

****

**_Life Debts Owed: Ginevra Molly Weasley, House of Weasley, Peter Pettigrew_ **

 

Griphook started to read the parchment out loud, but paused when, rather then ending after the acknowledgment of Mr potter as Lord of the ancient and Noble House of Black, the scrolling text continued, naming the young wizard as heir to both the Gryffindor and Peverell families and listing his gifts, bonds and life debts. There was no mention of this happening in previous recordings of this spell, but it was not outside the realm of possibilities for what the magic of the spell could do.

Griphook knew the vast wealth the Potter Estate held, and could imagine that the holdings of an Ancient and Noble house like the Blacks would be immense, but what really made him stare was the inclusion of the Gryffindor and Peverell names. As far as he was aware, there had been no claimant for either House in nearly five hundred years, as the male bloodline had run out long ago, so Merlin knows what those vaults where like by now. Should Harry choose to claim those Lordships as well, he would arguably be one of the wealthiest 16 year olds in the world.

Then there was the issue of the gifts and the bindings, as who in their right mind would continue to bind a child past the basic binding parents put on extremely magical children to help prevent accidental magic. To bind a child’s inherited magical gifts was cruel, to bind power twice was almost unheard of and to bind a child’s Mate Potential was actually illegal. Binding of this form would make it extremely hard for a child to perform magic at all, as their magical core would be off balance and would lead to a feeling of constantly missing something, much like Auror's who claimed to still be able to feel limbs long cursed off. Griphook had his suspicions about who had caused the Potter boy such damaged, but looking once again at Harry, knew that his suspicions would have to wait.

Harry stood, frozen at what he had read. Moments of his life flashed before his eyes, clues clicking into the larger jigsaw of his existence.

Pulling Gryffindor’s sword from the Sorting Hat in first year. His hair staying the same regardless of how often it was cut and brushed. Lightning cracking when he was angry. How he sometimes felt like he was trying to force his magic out, like water through a funnel. The number of times as a child he had gone to bed with what he now recognised as broken bones and woke up fine. The only thing he didn’t know about was the Mate Potential. That, and why someone had bound these gifts, particularly his healing, since by the time he was 11 he would have been at Hogwarts!

Taking hold of the parchment, Griphook gestured for Harry to follow him and he led the still silent boy back to his office. He once again asked Harry to sit down, only to get a shake of the head.

“Well… Do you still want me to proceed with the unsealing of the Wills, or would you prefer to wait?” The goblin asked softly.

“No, Master Griphook, please get my parent’s and Sirius’s wills for me. I think I need to read them at this point.” The boy replied equally softly.

The goblin left the office, and minutes later came back with what looked like a Pensieve and three glass vials, along with a small stack of letters. The letters Harry understood, but the Pensieve left him bewildered.

Setting the Pensieve on his desk, Griphook uncorked the first vial and poured it into the shallow dish before waving his hand over it. To Harry’s continued shock his father's head and shoulders floated out of the bowl and in a voice that Harry didn’t remember ever hearing, began to speak.

 

“I, James Fleamont Potter, do swear on my magic that this is my last Will and Testament.

 

To Remus Lupin, I leave 2 million galleons, and the ownership of Rose Cottage in Kent. You’re a dear friend Moony, and I want you looked after when I’m gone, don’t complain, and don’t you dare feel guilty.

 

To our secret-keeper, Peter Pettigrew, I leave 3 million galleons. I’d give you a house old friend, but I know how particular you can be about these sorts of things.

 

To my oldest and closest friend, I leave not money, but my most precious treasure. In the event that both Lily and I die before Harry reaches adulthood, Sirius Orion Black is to take custody of my child and heir Harry James Potter.

 

Should Sirius be unable to take custody, Harry should go to his godmother Alice Longbottom. In the event that she too is unable to take custody, then Harry should go to Severus Snape. Lily and I both agree on this appointment, and the reasoning is explained more in her letter.

 

Should Snape be unable to take custody then he should go first to Minerva McGonagall, then to Filius Flitwick and then to Arthur Weasley. Under no circumstances is he to be placed with my wife’s family, the Dursley’s.

 

Everything else I leave to Lily Potter to hold in trust for my son until he reaches his majority. Should she also die prematurely, Harry is to inherit the lordship and all the vaults, to be guarded by his Regent, Henry Ralston, who has been the Potter Steward since my father was a boy. Upon his 16th birthday, Harry is to be allowed full early access to his inheritance, including the responsibilities of the lordship. Since he will have grown up surrounded by love and support I have no doubt he will be equal to the challenge.

 

Lily and I have left letters for people, left in the care of Gringotts, which are to be distributed after our death.

 

Harry my boy, if you’re watching this, just know that you are the light of you’re mum and mines life. We love you so incredibly much, never forget that. I know that no matter what you do and who you become you will make us both so proud.

 

James Fleamont Potter”

 

The head and shoulders of the long deceased Potter sank back into the Pensieve and Harry watched his fathers face disappeared. There was a strange rushing sound in his ears, and he felt somewhat lightheaded.

Remus should have had a home. Wormtail was named as the secret keeper. Sirius should never been in Azkaban. Snape was his guardian. He never should have gone to the Dursley’s.

Griphook watched as the boy in front of him became progressively paler as the Will went on. Having been the goblin that recorded it, he had already known the contents, leaving him free to watch the Potter boy. As the Will ended though, he became increasingly concerned as the wizard in question started to sway slightly and then, much to Griphook’s alarm, drop to the floor in a dead faint. The snowy owl in the cage by the door began to screech, frantic to get to her master.

The last thought Harry had as his vision blacked out was that he didn’t know if Snape would have been any better then the Dursley’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Harry wakes up, we find out why Griphook is so keen to help, Snape is introduced and the other wills are read :)


	3. Old loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had to cut this one in half sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't sue me JK. Also, prepare yourselves for feels.

Severus Snape was one of the youngest Potion Masters in a century, a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and a man who quite enjoyed his summer break away from the dunderheads he had to attempt to teach each year, thank you very much.

He had his rather expansive garden, which contained a number of rare and highly sought after potions ingredients, his private potions lab, which was better equipped then even his lab at Hogwarts, and most importantly, he had his sweet, blessed, silence.

He still had a month left in the seclusion of Prince Manor in Devon when the owl flew in through the kitchen window with a letter from Gringotts. Much to the displeasure of his Head House Elf Tilsey, Severus enjoyed cooking his own food for the most part, employing the keen skills that made him such a good potioneer. He was standing at the bench in the old, but so-clean-it-glowed kitchen chopping herbs for a breakfast omelette when the Barn Owl flew in and perched on the stand that was specifically designed for this purpose. It squawked at him and held its leg out imperiously, eyeing Severus off as he lay the knife down and quickly cleaned his hands.

Having had its burden removed, the owl simply dipped its head into the water bowl for a quick drink, and then took off with a loud hoot. Severus sat down at the long wooden table, similar in design to the tables in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Breaking the seal, Severus read quickly over the missive, blinking in confusion.

 

_Lord Prince,_

_You are needed immediately at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London. As the matter is somewhat urgent, ask for Griphook at the front desk and you will be brought to me as quickly as possible. If inconvenient, please respond as such via the owl delivering this message._

_May your Gallons grow._

_Master Griphook, Senior Accounts Manager_

Severus snorted, noting sardonically that as the owl had already departed he really had no other choice but to make the trip to London. He stood and moved upstairs to the master bedroom to change, calling out to Tilsey that he wouldn’t be needing the cooking supplies left out on the bench after all.

Changing from the slacks and collared button up that he wore around the house when not working in the garden into one of his more formal robes, Severus stalked down through the sprawling manor, muttering to himself that at least he hadn’t started brewing yet. Making his way out the front door and past some of the gardens, he called to one of the house elves tending to the greenery, letting them know that he was going out and that he shouldn’t be too long. Moving to the apparition point in the wards, he turned sharply on his heal and with an ear splitting crack, disappeared.

 ________________________________________________________________________________________________

He reappeared in Diagon Alley, just near the steps leading into Gringotts. His sudden appearance startled an old witch in bright yellow robes, as well as a pair of screaming children who were presumably too young to be wandering around unaccompanied, particularly in the current climate. He moved hastily inside the building, stalking past the doors with the infamous inscription. He travelled up to the front desk; ignoring the outraged looks other patrons of the bank shot him.

“I was told to ask for a Master Griphook? Apparently its in regards to some urgent matter.” Severus sneered at the diminutive goblin sitting behind the desk.

“Ah yes. Please follow Rustsnipe here. He will guide you.”

Severus followed the other goblin, wandering deep into the bowels of the wizarding bank. When they finally arrived at the door labelled with Griphook’s name, he rapped his knuckles once upon the wood and then opened the door and proceeded through it, ignoring the faint tingling that went down his spine.

Griphook looked up from the papers he was shuffling and saw the Potions Master step into his office. He nodded curtly to the wizard, thinking to himself how differently the two wizards he’d had in this room today acted.

“Lord Prince, please do come in and take a seat.” Griphook raised an eyebrow as he gestured towards the chairs that the Potter boy had spurned. As the gloomy figure took a seat, the goblin continued, “Now, I’ve asked you here in regards to the Potter Wills, as they left you a bequest.”

Severus looked non-plussed. He had been left something by Lily? Because there was no way Potter would leave him anything, unless the item was viciously booby-trapped. The old goblin held out a letter to him, waiving it almost impatiently. As the wizard broke the seal on the envelope, the goblin began to speak.

“This should have been delivered to you shortly after the deaths of the Potters, but as the Wills have only just been ordered unsealed, this is the earliest we could give it to you. Once you have read the letter, I will explain the matters that have required me to call you here so urgently.” 

The writing on the outside was Lily’s precise lettering and Severus could almost smell the faint citrusy perfume she used.

 

_Dear Sev,_

_I hope by the time you read this we’re a hundred and fifty years old and have spent our lives brewing potions and creating charms together. That James and I have given Harry a couple of siblings and you’re one of their favourite uncles. That we’ve spent our whole lives together learning and laughing and living._

_Dumbledore’s just put us into hiding because of Voldemort and I can’t help but feel like something’s coming, something terrible. James and I are writing to all our friends and leaving the letters with Gringotts, just in case._

_Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I’ve forgiven you for the whole mudblood thing, just in case I didn’t ever get the chance to tell you in person. Truth be told I’d forgiven you pretty much as soon as I saw you walking away. I was just so stubborn and you seemed so unapproachable and angry with me about James and Sirius and I was so angry with you about the rest of your friends that as the days went on I just didn’t know how to cross that bridge. I am sorry you know, about not accepting your apology, I just didn’t know how to give in. I can’t help but feel like I’ve wrecked it all._

_I do hope that I did get the chance to tell you all this in person, but I thought I should write it down just to be safe._

_Hopefully we’ve made up by the time you read this, so it shouldn’t come out of left field, but in the event that something happens to James and I, and Sirius can’t take custody of Harry, James and I have both agreed that we want you to raise Harry. Even if Sirius does take Harry, I’d like you to still visit, even if it is only to tell him stories about his dear old mum when she was growing up._

_I know that you will love and care for Harry as one of your own and raise him to be as intelligent, caring and kind as I know you are. I also hope that you can help guide him through his lordship, since you too came into your title young._

_I don’t want Harry to have any contact with Petunia, at least until he’s old enough to defend himself. You know what she was like after I got my letter, and I’d hate to see what she’d be like to Harry, particularly since she married that great lump Dursley. I’ve told Dumbledore about the chain of custody for Harry, so there shouldn’t be any problems there._

_I hope I’m just being paranoid, and that you never read this, but if you do, know that you are and were my best friend and that I trust you with my life, and the life of my child._

_I love you Sev,_

_Always,_

_Your Lily_

By the time Severus finished reading, tears were silently dripping down his face. Lily had finally forgiven him, even if it was 18 years too late. He took a minute to compose himself, and wiped his face with one of the many handkerchiefs he had about his person. The letter raised a number of questions, most importantly that if Lily and Potter had placed him right after the Mutt in terms of custody for the brat why had Dumbledore place the boy with his Aunt and Uncle and why was he only just finding out about this now, as Wills were normally read within 31 days of the maker dying. Through it all, Griphook had watched silently as the stoic professor paled and began to weep.

“Why,” the professor snarled, “Has it taken this long for this letter to be made available to me? And why was the will of the Potters in relation to the boy so completely ignored!”

The goblin sat back in his chair, somewhat surprised at the venom in the wizard’s tone, but only a raised eyebrow indicated he had even heard the questions.

“On the night the Potters died, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot came to Gringotts and having watched the Wills of both Lord and Lady Potter, sealed them forever. It is only this morning that we have been able to circumvent this sealing and inform you of the contents, although circumstances have made it so that only the late Lord Potters Will has been watched.

“But the Chief Warlock is Dumbledore! Surely he didn’t…” The wizard trailed off, knowing full well that if he though it was for the ‘greater good’ Dumbledore would have done whatever he thought was necessary. “Who is his current Regent, they must have been informed about the custody arrangements regarding the boy?” It didn’t occur to Severus that his behaviour towards Harry could be considered strange when viewed in light of their past interactions. Griphook however, having heard of the near legendary feud between the young Gryffindor and the Head of Slytherin house, noted it with interest as something to be discussed later. Goblins, of course, kept themselves well informed on all the gossip, as anything could affect their gold and their vaults.

“Ah, well, that’s where things get interesting. Technically, Harry Potter’s Regent is Henry Ralston, who has served as the Potter’s steward for more than 70 years. However, since the Potter Wills were sealed, Dumbledore was able to declare himself the boys Regent and has been acting as such ever since, and as Gringotts is bound by confidentiality laws that prevent us from speaking about our clients business, there was no one to argue otherwise.”

Severus was actually stunned silent. He knew that Dumbledore was far from infallible, despite how he projected himself, but this whole situation was becoming increasingly questionable.

“Do I need any paperwork to collect the boy from his relatives home? As Sirius Black is dead I suppose I have become his guardian and I want him away from those people immediately.”

Never mind that it was 15 years too late and that his behaviour towards the boy had been less than exemplary in the past. He was hard pressed to remember exactly why he had been so horrible to the boy, besides the fact that he bore a striking resemblance to his father and had all the characteristics of a cocky, arrogant Gryffindor.

Griphook pressed his long skinny fingers together and replied, somewhat haltingly.

“That brings us to the reason for your abrupt summons. We normally would have invited you in at your convenience, but… circumstances wouldn’t allow it. Having gotten the Wills unsealed this morning, the Potter boy insisted on watching them immediately and at the conclusion of his father's… Well, he fainted. He’s currently in the small infirmary we use to treat curse breakers who injure themselves mildly in the course of their duties but don’t wish to go to St Mungo’s for treatment. There are healers with him now, both Wizard and Goblin, and well, they have discovered a number of issues and as he is still technically underage they requested that his guardians be contacted and well, here you are. At the exact moment the Will was viewed by the boy, the guardianship papers should have automatically changed at the Ministry to reflect his change in status.”

The goblin looked somewhat nervous at this, as he knew he had taken liberties with inviting the potions master to the bank. As Harry had automatically become emancipated at the conclusion of the identification spell he was technically an adult, but since he was unconscious and decisions needed to be made about his health and well being, Griphook had contacted Snape, his named legal guardian.

“Take me to him. If he still hasn’t woken from a faint there must be a further problem.”

At this Griphook stood and nodded, gesturing for the concerned wizard to follow him. They strode quickly through the maze of corridors, delving deeper into the bank.

____________________________________________________________________________________

The infirmary was a moderately sized room, not dissimilar to that of Madam Pomfrey's domain. Passing through the doors Severus felt another slight tingle go down his spine, but thought nothing of it in his haste to visit his newly found charge. The bed nearest the door had a woman in it, looking like she was recovering from a rather nasty infection of boils and a few beds along had a man who appeared to have an extra hand. What drew Severus’ attention most, however, was the bed right at the end of the room, surrounded by both wizard and goblin healers.

When they arrived at the bed, Severus realised that Potter wasn’t resting on the bed, but was rather hovering above it. This began to ring alarm bells in the back of his mind, knowing that the scene before him looked somehow familiar.

“I’m the boy's…guardian, I suppose, though newly discovered. Severus Snape, Lord of the House of Prince. Can someone please tell me what is wrong with the boy? Merlin knows he’s gotten into enough scrapes over the years that a fainting spell shouldn’t have cause him too much damage.”

“Lord Prince,” the wizard Healer began in a highly reproving tone, “Mr Potter is currently undergoing healing treatments for 2 broken phalanges on his right hand, 3 cracked ribs, a severe concussion, bruising to his larynx, a sprained ankle, numerous scrapes, cuts and bruises and the various infection that come from leaving them untreated, as well as whip marks from his shoulders to his thighs, some of which were deep enough to draw blood! He is severely undernourished and dehydrated and my scanning spells have indicated that he has a number of bones which have been previously broken and rehealed, as well as scarring on parts of his back from previous thrashings. He fainted from a combination of hunger, pain and emotional stress. In short, the boy shows signs of being repeatedly beaten, whipped and abused for most of his life. If it weren’t for his currently bound healing ability, there is no doubt in my mind he would be DEAD! Tell me right now why I shouldn’t file my report with the Department for the Protection of Magical Minors. Abuse of any child is abhorrent, but this child, who’s already been through so much? How dare you.”

Severus waved one of the chairs meant for visitors over to him and collapsed on it. This boy, Lily’s son, abused? Lying asleep in the air, his old round glasses placed on the table next to the bed, the boy looked much younger than his 16 years. He had known that the boy had been in and out of the hospital wing in his years at school, but had just assumed it was part of the shenanigans that he and his Gryffindor compatriots pulled. How had Poppy never picked this up? For that matter, how had Minerva not realised this was going on.

He knew that he was a more involved head of house, with making home visits to his entire group of snake first years, and regularly checking in with his students that he knew came from less than ideal homes, but how could Minerva know nothing at all? And surely Dumbledore or someone had checked in on the boy when he was staying at his aunt and uncles? Or was he to believe that they had left the child there, and never looked it on him again.

Lily knew that Severus had experienced a less than idyllic childhood, and to have her child experience the same thing when he had been entrusted to Severus was soul crushing for the young professor.

In the meantime, Griphook had explained to the Healers that Lord Prince had learned of his guardianship only minutes before arriving, and to please give him some time to process what he had heard.

Severus came back to the situation quite quickly, and despite being paler than anyone other than a vampire had rights to be, began asking questions about the boy’s treatment. As part of his Potions Mastery he had completed a section on healing, and was frequently sought after to brew complicated healing potions for St. Mungo’s.

“I’m sorry about the assumptions, but in cases like these it’s normally the family that are involved. Now, we’ve performed a number of healing spells, and he’s dosed up on a number of potions that should correct his bruising, cuts, infections and broken bones. I’m going to recommend a variation of the nutritional potion given to premature babies that should help to repair the damage done by the long-term malnutrition, which I'm sure you can brew yourself. I’d like to recommend you get him to an Optical Healer, as I simply don’t have the training to deal with the child’s eyes. What the boy needs, most of all, is rest and time to recover in a safe environment. I’d also recommend getting him to see a mind healer, but that, of course, is up to you.” The healer looked somewhat embarrassed, but this was swept away when the diminutive goblin at his side coughed for attention.

“Hehem. Having looked over Goblin Friend Potter, I would recommend you allow me to remove all the bonds that bind him, the healing in particular. His own body will be able to speed up the healing much faster than any outside magic could.” She spoke in a high, wavering voice, indicative of her presumably great age.

“He shouldn’t have any bonds on him. Madam Pomfrey checks all first years at the beginning of their time at school to remove the accidental magic bond in the event that their parents didn’t get around to it. Other then that specific bond, I though only the caster could remove bonds cast.” Severus trailed off as both healers and Griphook gave little huffs of disgust.

“The boy has many extra bonds placed on him, most of which seem to have been placed around the time of his parents deaths. His magical power has been bound twice, once in the accidental magic negation bond cast by parents, and for a second time by an unknown caster. He has also had is Metamorphic, Elemental, Mate Potential and Healing abilities bound. With wizard magic yes, only the caster can remove bonds, but I, young man, am not a wizard. We goblins still have a few tricks up our sleeves.”

Suitably chastised, Severus nodded for the goblin to go ahead. She began chanting in Gobbledegook, and moved in a circle around Harry. The witches and wizards in the room could feel a steadily mounting pressure, the air itself seeming to compress down on them. With a sharp crackle, the pressure left so abruptly that Severus wondered if it had even been there at all.

They all looked at Harry, staring as his hair began to cycle through the colours of the rainbow. The bruising on his face slowly faded out and the potion bottles on his bedside began to levitate. Slowly, the boy cycled back to his normal looks and everything settled down.

“I’ve unbound everything, including the Mate Potential. You probably know this, but many of the old Pureblood families have some creature blood in them, and if they have a magical inheritance to come into it will be when they are 16 or 17, so just keep an eye out for any changes to those around him in the future. Now, Lord Prince, I’d recommend you take him home. He might be in for a bit of a shock when he wakes up, so do try and be patient with him. We’ll check in on him in the next few days to see how the boy is recovering. Oh, and take the owl with you. I had to put a silencing charm on her cage she was making such a racket.”

Griphook handed Severus a quickly scrawled note, as well as the instructions for a handful of potions the male healer recommended for the boy. Severus took his wand and levitated Harry over to the fireplace, grabbed a hold of the Snowy Owl’s cage and threw some of the available floo powder into the fire, before dragging the still floating teenager into the emerald flames and shouting “Prince Manor!”

________________________________________________________________________________________________

Harry drifted slowly back into consciousness, wishing he could hold onto his dream. In his dream, he was warm, and the mattress and pillows he was laying on were soft, and most importantly he didn’t hurt.

Unfortunately, his bladder had different ideas, so he opened his eyes, only to find he was staring at the canopy of a four-poster bed, much like the one he slept in in Gryffindor Tower. He wasn’t in his camp bed at Privet Drive, and he definitely wasn’t on the floor in Griphook’s office, which is the last place he can remember being.

Hedwig hooted softly at Harry from a lovely perch by the open window. Harry sat up cautiously, aware that he should have been far sorer than he was. The room was spacious and well appointed, done in tasteful blues and creams with heavy mahogany furniture. Half filled bookshelves lines one wall, and a desk and a few chairs sat in the other corner. On the far side of the room from Harry were two doors, one leading to what looked like a bathroom and the other was closed. Harry was reaching for his glasses, noting that they seemed to make things more blurred, rather than less, when a small house elf popped silently into his room.

Unlike Dobby’s old and dirty pillowcase, this elf was wearing a little green dress, and when she saw that Harry was awake, spoke in a high-pitched squeaking voice.

“Master Harry is awake! Mopsey will be getting Master! Stay in bed please Master Harry!”

With that she popped back out of the room, leaving Harry looking at Hedwig in confusion. He wasn’t at Hogwarts, he wasn’t at the Weasley’s, and Hermione would never have a house elf. Where in Merlin's name was he?

The door to what Harry presumed was the corridor swung open, and the shadowy figure that stood in it made Harry close his eyes in frustration and despair as the sarcastic drawl he had learnt to despise rang out.

“Ah, Mr Potter, our new…house guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Harry and Snape get acquainted and talk some more with Griphook


End file.
